Bedtime Stories
by withoutmarbles
Summary: There were some things that only Alice knew about Jasper. Why he kept his fifty-year-old mattress was one of them. A fluffy oneshot.


No one knew why he kept that mattress.

It was an old and ratty thing.

There were rips, tears, and too many stains to count.

Honestly, it was disgusting. It was unfathomable why he wouldn't let them throw it out, but Jasper remained unmoved on the subject, stubborn as always.

So, it came with them every time they moved. He'd had it since joining the coven, and not once had he ever owned another. His siblings and parents had all gone through their fair share of mattresses (Rosalie and Emmett especially), but Jasper always kept the same one.

It was the one thing that came with him from place to place. He never got to keep his clothes upon the insistence of his mate - and, later, Rosalie - the furniture changed as frequently as his mother's taste in colors, and even his _name _got thrown around.

They all kept _something_.

For Alice, it was her boxes upon boxes of sketchbooks and an old dreamcatcher. For Esme, her antiques and scrapbooks. Carlisle hauled his research with him from place to place. Edward brought his piano. Rosalie and Emmett brought along their box of wedding rings. Bella kept the bracelet Edward had given her on one of their wedding anniversaries.

And Jasper kept his mattress.

He'd been asked time and time again why he kept it. He could never give them a straight answer, not entirely sure what to say. It was a deep-rooted connection he had with the old mattress; it was the first thing he'd owned when he'd moved in with the Cullens, seeing as he and Alice had moved around so much in their first year together. He'd thought it silly to have a bed at first, but he'd found when they'd tried to donate it to charity that he just couldn't part with it.

It sat propped up against the wall of the bedroom Jasper shared with Alice, now, looking just as beat up as ever, if not moreso than it had the last time they'd moved.

As usual, his family had urged him to get rid of it. None of them expected him to cave anymore, but they lived in hope that one day he would see how silly he was to keep it, no matter how vain they knew that hope was.

Jasper turned his back to the mattress, reaching for the roll of tape (which, much to his disdain, was a bright lime green color, courtesy of Emmett), knowing that if he didn't seal the last of Alice's abandoned boxes, no one would. For a vampire, she was incredibly forgetful.

He didn't hear her come in, tuned out to the world as he tended to be.

She was the only one who could surprise him, really. Emmett always alerted him when he was coming by his loud footfalls, and Rosalie's distinguished emotional aura was hard to miss. The rest had their own ways of making themselves known.

Not Alice. Her footsteps were lighter than anything, making no noise as she floated across the floor.

"Why do you keep it?" she asked suddenly.

Sure enough, he turned around to find her touching one hand to the old mattress.

She was the only one who had never asked him that before. He supposed Rosalie made up for her in that area, her having asked him at _least _a dozen times.

He was about to shrug, ready to brush off her question, when she gave him the strangest look; it was a mixture of irritation, curiosity, and understanding.

"You weren't planning on lying to me like you lied to everyone else, were you?" Her question held an undertone of venom - she knew perfectly well what he'd been about to say. There was no getting past Alice.

Jasper turned to fully look at her. "It's silly, really," he insisted.

And it was. He knew fully well how ridiculous it was for him to feel any attachment to an inanimate object.

He also knew how particular his mate was about material things. Honestly, he'd been surprised when she hadn't joined her sisters on hassling him about getting rid of it like she did with clothes and furniture.

Her eyebrows raised slightly in her incredulity. "You don't think I'd make fun of you, do you?"

He blew out a sigh. "No, I don't, darlin'."

She perched on the edge of their yet-to-be disassembled bed frame, her golden orbs never leaving his face. She was patient - she knew he would answer her eventually. He always did. There was nothing he could keep from her. Likewise, there was nothing she could keep from him.

Jasper eyed the old mattress almost fondly. "It's the first thing I ever really owned, see. I can't remember what I had when I was a boy - in fact, I can barely remember my own Ma's smile. It just feels wrong to think about getting rid of that mattress." He paused for a moment, thinking about the best way to put it. "It's not that it's a _mattress_, either - I would have treated it the same if it were a pocket watch or even a linen roller."

Alice didn't immediately respond - in fact, she barely responded at all except for a slow nod. Their relationship was strange in that way - silence was somehow enough to convey whatever message was meant to be conveyed.

A few minutes of silence passed before she finally said, "Jasper?"

"Yes?"

"You might want to reconsider keeping that mattress in the house when we get to the new house."

"Why?"

It wasn't like they ever used it - usually, the mattress was simply shoved underneath whatever new one Esme had picked out for their stay (which irritated Alice to no end, as she had to jump to get onto her own bed) - but it was always in the house. Why Alice would choose now to move it, he couldn't fathom.

"Because Rosalie's plans of burning it and dancing around the fire get more elaborate every day."

The mattress was sent into storage the next day.

* * *

There were some things that only Alice knew about Jasper.

Why he kept his fifty-year-old mattress was one of them.


End file.
